


Crossing Borders

by 3RatMoon



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Enemy Lovers, Frottage, Golden Deer Ferdinand von Aegir, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:40:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24311446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3RatMoon/pseuds/3RatMoon
Summary: Ferdinand knew he shouldn't have come, but he did anyway.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 6
Kudos: 124





	Crossing Borders

**Author's Note:**

> I kept thinking about what Ferdinand's relationship with Hubert would be like if he joined the Golden Deer, and it came down to trysts across enemy lines. Enjoy!

He knew he shouldn’t have come.

Ferdinand eyed the windows of the crumbling tower as he climbed the stairs, level after level, towards the top. The tower had been abandoned for years, he had heard, but that didn’t mean that people didn’t still visit. He stepped quietly— just the sound of dirt grinding under his heel felt loud. The stone felt cold where he balanced himself against the wall.

He checked all of the windows once he got to the top level. There was nothing there, except for the trees and brush surrounding the bit of clear land the tower sat within. And, if he gauged correctly, no one should see him from the outside, as long as he remained seated.

He knew he shouldn’t have come, but he sat and waited anyway. He played for a while with the deck of cards he kept in his riding pack, and when he tired of that, he just leaned his head back against the stone wall and dozed. It was something he had gotten very good at on campaign, stealing sleep in the dull moments between battles and marches, always light enough to be roused when needed. That’s how he knew to be ready when he felt the sensation of all his hairs standing on end, the tell-tale moment of magic building before crackling to life. He was on his knees with his lance in hand by the time the magic resolved into a Warp spell, then dispersed, leaving a person behind.

The figure turned, and Ferdinand felt himself pinned by green eyes that made the years spent on opposite sides of a war feel like they had never happened at all.

“Ferdinand,” Hubert said softly.

Ferdinand stood, resting the butt of his spear on the stone floor.

“I hope you understand what a tremendous risk it was for me to come here,” he said.

The letter had been unaddressed, slipped between two others on his desk. Of course, Ferdinand didn’t need an address to recognize the spidery handwriting. He had seen it countless times in notes shared at the academy, in brutal notations on his essays that he initially despised but came to rely on. The letter itself only contained a date, time, and location. Ferdinand simply had to trust Hubert, enough to leave for a desolate locale without letting anyone know where he was going or why.

Honestly, Ferdinand thought that he deserved to be killed and left to rot there alone for his foolishness. After all, he and Hubert had not been friends for a long time.

Hubert looked him over silently for a long moment. “Yet, you came,” he said. “I will admit, I wasn’t entirely sure you would.”

“Nor was I,” said Ferdinand.

Another beat of silence.

“You grew your hair out,” Hubert said.

“And you cut yours,” Ferdinand replied. “Except for the bit over your eye, of course.”

“Hm,” Hubert grunted, but Ferdinand could see the ghost of a smile pass his lips.

They studied each other a little longer like that, each tabulating how the other had changed. Ferdinand saw the change in hair and clothes, of course, but he saw other things, too. Hubert stood taller, his arms held behind his back, chest out. He looked very much the Master Spy of the Empire, dangerous and proud, no longer slinking about unless he wanted to be. He also looked more tired. Ferdinand guessed that he did, as well.

After the long quiet, Ferdinand asked, “Why did you call me here?”

Hubert’s piercing gaze looked away. “I wanted to see you,” he said.

That startled a laugh from Ferdinand. “That’s all? You risked getting a letter across enemy lines to a traitor of the Empire— alerting me that you very likely have spies in House Riegan in the process— arranging a clandestine meeting, just because you  _ missed _ me?”

Hubert scowled in the way that Ferdinand had learned was his way of masking hurt with disdain. “It wouldn’t be like this if you had taken Lady Edelgard’s offer. If you hadn’t been so  _ stubborn— _ ”

“Oh! So refusing to take part in an invasion, sentencing my people to yet more suffering and death when they’ve had plenty of it already under my father’s rule, is  _ stubborn _ now?”

Hubert’s hands tightened into fists, the leather of his gloves creaking. “There are always sacrifices that need to be made to create change,” he said in a low voice.

“And I refuse for that sacrifice to be more lives!” Ferdinand countered. His voice was rising. The conversation was one he and Hubert had a number of times already before. Ferdinand should have been used to it, but Hubert seemed to have a special effect on him, a way of drawing anger from him seemingly without any effort at all.

“And what—” Hubert growled, “ — you think you can just invite the Archbishop to tea and ask her  _ nicely _ to reform the entirety of the Church and its place in Fodlan?”

“No, I don’t!” Ferdinand shouted. “Do you even know me at all?”

“I know enough to know you’re a coward,” Hubert spat. “A fool. An ignorant, soft, self-important—”

Ferdinand had Hubert up against the wall before he even knew what was happening. Ferdinand’s lance clattered to the floor behind them. Hubert did not move, looking down at Ferdinand, chest heaving under his hands.

His lips twitched upwards into a smirk. “Ah, have I angered you?”

Ferdinand tightened his fists in Hubert’s tunic. “Of course you have! It’s the only thing you’ve ever been able to do to me, and you do it so damned well—”

He shoved at Hubert again, who hissed as the stone bit into his back.

“I missed you,” he said, strained and quiet.

Ferdinand stopped and stared.

Hubert looked back.

“You,” Ferdinand started.

“Yes,” Hubert answered.

Then, Hubert bowed his head, allowing Ferdinand to lean up and kiss him.

They both gasped as they broke apart, staring at each other again. Then, like divers, they plunged back into each other’s lips, deep and desperate. Hubert’s hands clutched at Ferdinand’s shoulders. Ferdinand raked his gloved hands through Hubert’s hair, scratching at the back of his neck. Hubert made a soft, aching sort of sound in the back of his throat, and Ferdinand felt it like a fire igniting in his belly.

“I missed you, too,” he gasped when they broke apart. 

He leaned against Hubert, letting him feel the growing hardness underneath the layers of fabric. Hubert made that sound again, clutching at Ferdinand’s hair, pressing back against him. They devoured each other, grinding their hips together, their breaths loud in the stony silence of the tower.

Ferdinand reached for the lacing of his breeches, still breathing into Hubert’s mouth. Hubert noticed, and he grabbed for Ferdinand’s cock the moment he had it out, stroking with a purpose. Ferdinand groaned. He hadn’t been touched like that in months, and certainly not the way Hubert touched him— at once careful and ruthless, and with the knowledge of exactly how to take Ferdinand apart.

Not to be outdone, Ferdinand dug through Hubert’s clothes, tearing at laces and clasps until he had the man’s cock in hand. Hubert’s head fell to Ferdinand’s shoulder, and he moved his hand faster. Ferdinand had other plans, though. Pulling Hubert’s head back up by his hair, he kissed and sucked at his lower lip, distracting the mage enough to nudge his hand aside and grasp both their cocks together.

“ _ Yes,” _ Hubert hissed, his hips bucking up into Ferdinand’s hand.

They rocked into each other at a frantic pace. They bit and sucked at each other’s lips and throats and grasped hard at each other through their clothes. They had never been gentle lovers, even before the war. Alone in that abandoned tower, they fucked like it was a battle, and they were desperately well-matched.

Just as Ferdinand felt like the tight coil of pleasure low in his belly was about to release, Hubert pulled at his hair again, gasping.

"Ferdinand," he whispered.

"Hubert," Ferdinand choked, and spent himself.

When he came back to himself, Hubert was shaking and cursing and coming over Ferdinand's hand, which had kept dutifully pumping their cocks while he drifted. Finally, he let go, slumping against Hubert, and Hubert let him stay there. 

For a while, there was just the sound of them panting to catch their breaths. 

Ferdinand closed his eyes and allowed himself a moment to imagine.

Then, Hubert shifted, and Ferdinand stepped back. In tandem, they both fished handkerchiefs from their pockets and cleaned up best they could. Ferdinand had a spot on his jacket that he couldn’t quite remove, and would probably get looks from the laundry staff for.

Ferdinand tucked his handkerchief away, and looked up to see Hubert staring back.

Ferdinand looked away.

“Will I see you again?” he asked.

“Off the battlefield, you mean?” said Hubert.

Ferdinand did not answer, hating Hubert for saying it so easily.

Hubert sighed. “I do not know.”

Ferdinand ran a finger over one of the grooves in his vambrace, back and forth.

“We don’t have to do this,” Ferdinand said quietly.

“Oh? You propose that we abandon our posts and everything we believe in and go live in a cottage in the Oghma Mountains together while Fodlan goes to the eternal flames below us?” Hubert’s voice didn’t have its usual venom. He sounded almost sad. “No, Ferdinand.”

Ferdinand clenched his fists. He longed to grip Hubert’s robes in his hands again, to crush his mouth with his.

“Damn it all…” he said, almost to himself.

Hubert was quiet. Then, he said, “I’m sorry, Ferdie.”

Ferdinand closed his eyes. “Goodbye, Hubert.”

There was a long silence, but then, finally, magic charged the air, and with a crack, Hubert Warped away.

Ferdinand told himself he would not weep, but on the ride back to Derdriu, he did anyway. He arrived back at the Riegan estate haggard and hollow. It was late in the evening, and he only let the staff know to tell Claude he had returned before retiring to bed. Thankfully, exhausted as he was, body and soul, he was allowed to sleep.

If he spent each day of the rest of the war hoping for an unaddressed note tucked into his stack of incoming mail, he told no one.


End file.
